


A Fallen God

by Hostiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hostiel/pseuds/Hostiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki fell from the Bifrost he was expecting the cool embrace of oblivion, not to become a spirit and then be ripped apart and forced into the mind of a six-year-old named Harry Potter. With no physical form, he must keep the boy alive if he seeks to keep existing, and everyone knows that the best way to ensure continued survival is to simply become greater than everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This previously had 39 chapters. I chose to delete them, both because I am currently editing this piece, and because I seek to reach a wider audience. And because I accidentally deleted Chapter 4 and screwed up the entire order trying to fix it. 
> 
> I will continue to upload these chapters as I edit them, though not very fast. If you still want to read this in its current state, rather than in the slightly higher quality in which I will upload it here, you can read it on fanfiction.net, under the same name and author. Here is the link, though I am unsure as to whether they work on this site: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11447653/1/A-Fallen-God

**Chapter 1**

Loki released his grip and let himself fall. Thor's screams of anguish rang in his ears, yet Odin's silence was somehow ten times more deafening. As he turned towards the blue vortex below him, he felt his eyes began to water.

That was only because the light was too bright, of course. Not because of the fact that this was the end for him. It also wasn't because of Odin's disappointment. No, he cared about Odin as much as Odin cared about him: not at all. Or a bit less than that, perhaps.

He wasn't exactly sure how it was possible to care for someone less than not at all, but he was good at beating impossible odds. Except when he wasn't. Like now, for example, as he found himself failing in his plan to destroy Jotunheim. Then again, those odds hadn't exactly been impossible.

The chance of surviving this, however, was impossibly low. Logic dictated that Loki would, therefore, survive.

Loki smiled as the swirling abyss of oblivion enveloped him.

* * *

If he had been conscious, Loki would have been screaming—if the pain hadn't already torn his mind apart, that was. In fact, more than that was happening now. Splinters of his very being were lashed off by the power assaulting him. Each shard of Loki was sent in a different direction, and subsequently destroyed by corporeal and spiritual energies alike.

All but one.

A fragment of Loki, slightly bigger than the rest managed to cling to its former body until the very last moment. Any physical part of it was destroyed as it re-entered the universe, but the spirit–the _soul,_ the tiny piece of one, at least–remained. The energies of the broken Bifrost picked it up like a tornado and sent it spinning through space and time, and in a matter of massive coincidence, it happened to land on Midgard.

The fragment was a being of animalistic instinct, and all animals desired to eat. This entity needed to feed upon magic–not much, but it would need to latch itself to a source. In its extremely weak state, the source would need to be vulnerable. It scanned across the Earth, omnipresent and yet without form, looking for something to consume.

And there it was. A being much like it. An entity that was less than a hundredth of a human's soul that had connected itself to a host in an attempt at survival. Unfortunately for the said piece of human soul, a hundredth of an Asgardian soul was far more powerful than even a whole human soul—and it most certainly was not a full human skull.

Whilst the fragment of Loki was far too small to measure, it had little trouble ripping the despicable creature into shreds and banishing it from its host's mind so that he could replace it.

If the six-year-old Harry Potter had been awake, he would have seen a cloud of writhing blackness burst from his scar, letting out an eldritch screech before a bright white light consumed it and forced its own way in. In fact, he did awake at this point, but by this time the light show had vanished.

With a small frown, he attributed the light he had seen to his imagination–there were no windows in his cupboard, after all–and went back to sleep.

* * *

For what seemed like an eternity to him, Loki could do naught but observe and think. Thinking. He had certainly been doing a lot of that. The first matter he had decided to contemplate was the simple subject of whether or not he was actually Loki. He had retained partial memory of his time as an untethered spirit, his supernatural intelligence the only thing that stopped his mind from being driven insane as he perceived the concept of nigh-on omnipresence.

He knew that he had been a part of Loki, and that with the fact that the "real" Loki was most likely dead, he decided that he was now Loki–even if he didn't have a physical form and was confined to the mind of a child. How he had fallen.

Whilst he had never paid much attention to the affairs of the great majority of mortal kind, he had occasionally interfered with wizards, spreading chaos among them and teaching them spells that would further their strife between themselves. He happened to now inhabit the mind of one of them, and an apparently powerful one if his estimations were correct. Well, not powerful _now_ seeing as though he was a six-year-old, but he would be when he was an adult—if he managed to make it to adulthood.

Loki would have been happier with the power levels of his host if not for the fact he couldn't figure out how to take over the boy's mind. For mortal months he had recharged his strength, leeching off the boy's soul until he was once again full. By all logic, he should have been able to dominate the child's mind with the slightest effort. Unfortunately, logic had abandoned him.

He supposed the reason he was not able to was that he was essentially composed of the boy's magic, having fed off of it to reconstruct his mind. Being a master of magic, Loki of all people knew that some types of magic refused to strike against itself. It was just his luck that he managed to come up against it in this child.

For what must've been the hundredth time, Loki found himself wishing that he had ended up in the mind of an adult. For one, they would be a lot more powerful. There was also that Loki was not exactly a patient god, and although he had fathered–and _mothered_ –children of his own, he did not think he had the kindness to cooperate with a child's immaturity.

He sighed. Yes, an adult would be much easier to cooperate with. As evidenced by the fact that Loki had been a mother, he was not adverse to changing forms to obtain his goals—well, he hadn't been back then when he hadn't known how badly it would damage his mind—and an adult or a hormonal teenager was considerably easier to seduce.

What would lure a bloody _six-year-old_ into doing his bidding?! _Candy?!_ Loki himself had not been a child for centuries upon centuries, so he didn't have much recollection of his own childhood other than sadness at never being good enough to make his father proud.

On that note, he had noticed that there were many similarities between him and the boy, Harry, whose name he had only learnt when the boy's guardians had finally decided to call him something over than "boy."

They were both orphans, though the circumstances were slightly different, Loki having killed his biological father whilst Harry's had been murdered, or at least that's what he assumed from the flashes of green light that plagued the boy's dreams. Those flashes were easily recognisable as those of the Killing Curse, which Loki was quite impressed the humans had managed to learn.

Perhaps not _all_ humans were hairless apes, just the vast majority.

They had also both been adopted by people who cared more for their other child, though the Dursleys were _slightly_ more blatant in showing this, what with their locking in a cupboard, rather than just disapprovingly glaring at him with one eye.

Both of them were outcasts.

All of these combined with their slightly similar appearance would probably make it easier for Loki to manipulate Harry into seeing him as a father or elder brother figure.

If he had been in his physical form, Loki would have frowned. What exactly was his objective anyway? To return to Asgard? World domination? To _rule_ Asgard? Universal domination?

For now, he would just have to wait for the boy to grow more powerful, an easier task than he had first expected. Loki could already feel his soul having an _extremely_ _slight_ impact upon the boy, his personality and physiology alike. He supposed that one day, with a bit of influence from him, Harry would be completely Asgardian, or–gods forbid–Jotun instead of human. This was if Loki's soul continued to change and warp him for years, and Loki hoped it would have a similar effect upon his personality. It wouldn't do to share a body with someone squeamish about killing.

He supposed he would have to start changing the boy at an early age, just as soon as he had enough power to actually _talk_ to him _._

* * *

Harry let out a growl of annoyance as a yell filtered through his cupboard door, awakening him from a sleep for once uninterrupted by nightmares. Nevertheless, he still opened the door of his cupboard and moved towards the kitchen, preparing to cook breakfast for his _relatives._

He despised them, but what else could he really do? From what they had told him, this was better than an orphanage, but then again, they could be lying. Still, he was fairly sure that if anyone found him they would just call the police and send him back here. That would only make Vernon even more angry than usual, and that was not a situation Harry wanted to be in.

School was the only way to get away from Vernon and Petunia, and even there they would know everything he did, and Dudley made sure to always impart their wrath upon him for when they couldn't. Finishing his breakfast, Harry sighed as he made his way towards the garden, preparing to begin a weekend of chores.

"I guess I'll be here forever," he murmured as he exited the backdoor.

"Or perhaps not, Harry," an unfamiliar voice said in response and he shot around, looking for the source.

He was greeted by the sight of a tall, slim, and undeniably handsome man with black hair and green eyes slightly similar to his own. What drew his attention, however, was not the man's face. It was his rather odd choice in clothing. He appeared to be wearing golden armour with a flowing green cape.

Being a six-year-old, Harry blurted out the first question to come to mind. "Are you my dad?"

For a moment, the man looked stunned, but then his expression transitioned into annoyance. "No! What would prompt you to think that?!" the man asked incredulously, any traces of his previous coolness gone.

Harry frowned. "Well, we look kind of similar, and the Dursleys always said my parents were weird..."

"Weird?!" the man demanded. "I am not weird!"

"Well," Harry sniggered. "You're wearing a cape..."

The man looked appalled to the point where Harry had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "This is no mere cape; it is the pinnacle of Asgardian finery!"

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Pinnacle? Asgardian?"

As if he was going to explain, the man opened his mouth before abruptly closing it again and sighing. "Your education can come later, for now, I must explain more crucial matters to you." He paused dramatically. "I am Loki Odinson, god of mischief, among other things."

Whilst there were other titles the mortals had bestowed upon him, he didn't exactly know which ones were correct, and were from actual oracles rather than false ones. He had thought the mortals to be wrong about everything, but with his recent realisation that he was, in fact, a son of Laufey and that they had known this millennia before he himself had, he didn't know what to think anymore.

Harry blinked. "A god? Then why are you here?"

Loki had been expecting slightly more surprise than that, but decided to go with it anyway. "To be perfectly honest, I fell from the Bifrost—"

"Bifrost?" Harry interrupted.

Loki sighed again; explaining things to this boy was _already_ annoying him. "A big rainbow bridge," he simplified. "Anyway, as I was saying before I was _interrupted"–_ he looked pointedly at Harry–"I fell from the Bifrost and found myself stripped of my physical form. As a spirit, I, of course, needed a host if I sought to remain tethered to the physical world. Luckily for me, I happened to find a mortal with a spirit – one weaker than me – inhabiting their head. You."

Harry gaped in horror. "There was something in my _head?!"_

"There is no need to thank me for ridding you of it. I now reside within you instead, and you are the only one who can see and communicate with me, thus why I am talking to you."

"There's a _god_ living inside my _head?"_ asked Harry, not looking any less horrified.

Loki frowned, slightly offended. Whilst that was greatly overly-simplified, it was essentially the truth. "Yes. Oh, you also happen to be a wizard."

"Magic is real?!"

Loki raised a single eyebrow. "You so easily believe in the gods, yet magic is infeasible to you?"

"Well, Vernon and Petunia say—" began Harry, but he was promptly interrupted.

"Vernon and Petunia? The same aunt and uncle who hate you?" Loki said, and Harry recoiled in surprise. "I live inside your head, Harry, I see the world through your eyes, and I know hatred when I see it. I have faced it many a time before."

Harry frowned. "But you're a god."

Loki's expression saddened an almost unperceivable amount. "Even gods have families, Harry." His eyes glinted as a smirk broke upon his face. "On that note, you must soon begin to learn magic if we are to leave this place, and I think your family would make simply _excellent_ test subjects."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry let himself drift away from reality, concentrating on nothing but Loki's telepathic instructions and his target, Dudley. The sounds of the school playground faded into numb static as Loki's voice became the only noise perceptible to him.

"Look at Dudley, then look beyond him. Stare upon his form in both body and spirit, and then push yourself forward," Loki whispered.

He had told Harry that whilst there were many ways to invade someone's mind, this would be the easiest by far with him helping, also simplified by the fact he was only trying to intrude upon a weak-minded child who had no innate magic to fight off invasion. It was not a mortal method, but it was one Loki himself had been quite adept at using when he himself had been young.

It had taken him quite a while to learn as a child, but he could dramatically speed the process for Harry by doing the heavy lifting himself. There was also the matter of how much weaker a mortal mind was than that of an Asgardian.

Harry followed Loki's advice to the letter, piggybacking off the Asgardian's soul to perceive more than any human could, and when he moved forward, his body did not. A portion of his mind merged with Loki's lashed towards Dudley at amazing speed, colliding with his mind.

With Loki focusing on enhancing Harry's perception rather than instructing him, Harry might have had a difficult time trying to dominate Dudley's will. Luckily for him, he only needed to influence his mind.

Gathering all the hate he had for the boy, Harry manifested it into existence, imparting upon the Dudley the first thing that came to mind. This method was in no way delicate, relying on emotion, but it could work well in some instances.

Satisfaction flared within Harry as Dudley let out a scream of terror, no doubt a result of the wave of spiders he was currently imagining flood across his vision. All of Dudley's friends laughed at the fat boy, who was still screaming even though the weak illusion had undoubtedly dispersed by this point.

Later, when the excitement had died down, Dudley glared at the Harry, who promptly swallowed. If Dudley suspected his freakishness to be at hand, Harry would be in trouble with Vernon and Petunia, evidence or not.

 _'Well,'_ began Loki, speaking directly into Harry's mind. ' _I suppose my next lesson should be self-defence.'_ He paused. _‘I believe that my being torn apart may have limited my ability to plan things. Being torn apart_ does _tend to have that effect.’_

Harry was a quick learner, no doubt. Projecting your mind forward like that was no small feat for a human. From the ease with which Loki had managed to help Harry do it and see the world on a supernatural level, he thought that he might have already merged with the boy at least partially, making Harry's magic slightly Asgardian in nature. Now there was no chance of separation, not that there had been to begin with.

Whilst the magic of Asgard flowed through Harry, Loki suspected that his power levels were nowhere near that of an Asgardian if the fact that he had been exhausted by that small illusion was to say anything. Loki  _might_ be able to fix that in the future, though he really had no idea. It was completely unheard of for a being of his complexity to live within a mortal's mind.

He had hoped he would be able to channel his whole power through the boy, but it was apparently not to be. He could push his mental force into helping Harry perform a spell, but not his magical strength; that part was down to Harry. With him guiding Harry's magical, mental, and physical development, however, he was sure that he could make some changes for the better—like, for example, making him into an inhuman and immoral and preferably not _completely_ insane psychopath.

If he wanted to ensure that the boy— and thus he—didn’t die, the first area he would need to work on would be his personality. It would not take much of a push to turn an abused and neglected child into a cold-blooded and ruthless killer, and Loki spoke that from experience.

Dudley knowing the illusion had something to do with Harry had been an unpredicted gift. The boy would fear approaching Harry, being the coward he was, and would instead run to his parents, giving Harry a good amount of time to recharge. Physical magic tended to expend less energy than mental magic, and Loki was sure that with his guidance, Harry would have enough to kill the Dursleys.

The only thing stopping Harry from trembling in fear as he entered number four Privet Drive were the reassuring words of Loki echoing through his head. He attempted to close the door quietly, but Vernon had the ears of a bat where Harry's "mischief" was concerned and was already marching up to him.

 _'Don't let him touch you,'_ Loki mentally reminded Harry. ' _You are in danger. Remember how he normally reacts to your magic? Well, though he is borderline retarded, even a blind pig—which would be much like him, now that I think about it—could’ve figured out that you were doing it on his son. And, much like the blind pig, he will be angry.'_

"Boy!" Vernon screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Do you know what Dudley has just told me?!"

"No, sir," Harry said meekly.

"Why you lit—" Vernon began, but got no further as he moved his hand to grab Harry by the shoulder.

 _'Now,'_ Loki whispered. When Harry saw the obese man move, he was preparing himself to strike, gathering his anger and negative emotion towards Vernon. As his uncle's hand touched his shoulder, Harry rammed his hand towards him, holding it only a few inches from the man's stomach.

For a moment, magic coursed through Harry, and then he let out a scream as burning coldness scorched at his palm, but then it was gone and a burst of bright light lit up his vision. When his sight returned, Harry found himself staring upon his uncle slumped against the wall with his clothing slightly frosted over at the front.

Harry had released a blast of concussive magic that only worked for a short range. From what Loki had told him, the ice must have been a result of him performing the magic imperfectly, the leakage manifesting as coldness. He frowned. Loki had said it was normally heat.

 _'From the damage on the wall behind him and the blood leaking from his nose, I'm going to say he's most likely dead,'_ Loki said, no remorse in his tone as he interrupted Harry's thought. _‘Well done—oh, I mean “oops.”’_

 _'Wh-what?'_ Harry asked, also speaking telepathically as he stared at the apparent corpse in horror.

A sigh echoed through Harry's mind. ' _He. Is. Dead.'_

_'But I didn't mean to kill him!'_

_'In the wilderness a blind pig such as he was always going to be eaten by a greater predator, no matter how angry it was.’_ He paused. _‘Perhaps we should stop using this analogy, unless you are particularly hungry.’_

_‘No!’_

_‘No, you’re not going to eat him, or no, you don’t want the analogy to stop? You humans are so confusing,’_ he said. _'Anyway, you hated him; he hated you. You were enemies, and you're meant to kill your enemies. It is not a bad thing to do, especially if you are merely a child acting in self-defence.'_ Loki sighed. ' _I guess you're going to have to kill the others as well...'_

 _'What?'_ demanded Harry. Killing one relative was bad enough.

_'Pay attention to your surroundings, Petunia has already come in whilst we've been talking. Oh, now I can hear her sneaking up behind you. I would suggest defending yourself.'_

Harry spun, magic already flaring within him as he caught sight of his aunt wielding a kitchen knife, but he wasn't quite fast enough, and his world became pain as the blade nicked at his shoulder.

This blast of magic was unintentionally more powerful, fuelled by Harry's panic, distress, and agony. The slightly longer range dispersed it, however, so that it hit with about the same impact as it had hit Vernon, but Petunia had lunged forward and was caught under the chin.

Harry could only watch in horror as his aunt's neck was snapped and she fell to the floor limply. Suddenly fatigue hit him like a brick and both Harry and Loki knew that one more attack would leave him collapsed.

 _'Pick up the knife,'_ urged Loki. At Harry's hesitance, the god's tone grew more desperate. ' _Pick up the knife, Harry! Leaving any witnesses will be_ extremely  _bad for both us! You feared an orphanage, but you would rather spend the rest of your life in a jail cell!'_

At this, conflict raged within Harry. He knew it was selfish, but there was no going back now. He had already accidentally killed his aunt and uncle. If he didn't kill Dudley as well, he might be responsible for not only his own death, but Loki's as well. He didn't want to let down the only person who had ever taught him anything. The only person who had ever shown him an ounce of kindness. Despite Loki's occasional impatience and constant apathy, he had helped Harry, and he liked him.

Loki's words echoing through his mind, Harry dropped to his knees and picked up the kitchen knife. It looked like a sword in his small hands. In that moment, Dudley came around the corner and froze. For a few seconds, Harry thought the boy would run away; instead, he seemed to instantly process his dead parents and charge at the one responsible.

And whilst he might’ve been smart enough to figure out what Harry had done, he was not smart enough to realise it was not a smart move to run into the pointy end of a knife.

Loki was stunned. _‘He…he literally ran into your knife. Like some kind of blind pig. As many times as I’ve used that excuse, I’ve never_ seen _it actually happen.’_ He paused. _‘I suppose it is a bit more plausible when they only run into the knife once, rather than a dozen times in a row.’_

Tears now streaming down his face as a barrier broke inside him, Harry fled the house without a final look back, clutching at his wound.

For a moment, Loki felt guilty. Even  _he_ had not been that young when he had killed his first man. He brushed any emotion away. In the end, this was all for Harry's own good.

Now the first part of his plan had been completed, Loki knew that his next objective was to train Harry to become more powerful, but what would come after that? With a combination of his time observing the world through Harry's eyes and further recalling his memories of being a spirit, he had noticed that he had been the victim of a temporal fracture, or, in other words, he had travelled through time.

Loki had lived for millennia, but time-travel was still something he was  _extremely_ careful to avoid, especially with amounts of time as large as this. Anything could go wrong, and for he knew a single paradox could collapse the universe—well, he hypothesised that it could, but couldn’t know for sure, since the universe was yet to end.

This meant that until he got to a point beyond the time he had fallen from the Bifrost, Loki could not allow himself to be revealed to Asgard, the mortal world, or the previous version of himself.

Not having checked a calendar the last time he was here, Loki had no idea how long he would have to wait, but guessed that it would be under a decade. It shouldn't have been too much of an issue. By that point, Harry wouldn't have reached the end of puberty and thus would not be able to access his full potential. Being as wise as he was, Loki wouldn't have allowed his host to enter the world of gods for a few more years after that at least.

It was also at this point where if a physical form of him existed, he would find out. Loki pondered the ramifications of there being two of him at the same time who were actually capable of interacting with each other. He would have frowned if he wasn't only a spirit. In all honesty, he would most likely hate himself. After all,  _both_ of them couldn't rule.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"As I said before, it was self-defence," Loki said, his illusion appearing in the alleyway, standing next to where Harry was slumped against the wall. "If you had not taken their lives, you might now be dead, and so would I."

Harry sniffled. "And what about Dudley?"        

"I explained this to you as well." Loki sighed, though his tone was patient. Whilst many would not believe it, he too had once had a similar conversation. "He _literally_ ran into your knife. And have you not read the tales in which someone's parents are killed? The orphan always rises up and avenges them. You don't want that to happen to you.”

With a sigh, Loki knelt down to Harry's level, manipulating the boy's nervous system so it felt as though he was tilting his head upwards. He stared into his eyes. "Harry, we are similar in many ways, destined to be outcasts among our peers. These mortals– _muggles_ –they will hate us for who we are. Our actions do not matter, for it will not change their opinions. If we are to survive, you must learn that you are far more important. With my addition to you, the blood of immortals courses through your veins."

By this point, Harry had calmed slightly. With a concealed grimace, Loki made his illusionary form pull the boy into a hug which was happily requited.

"Your wound should now be healed," murmured Loki. Whilst he couldn't outright use Harry's magic, he could manipulate a small portion of his own within Harry's own body, allowing him to heal him, manipulate his nerves, and enhance his muscles.

A cold gale whipped through the alley, but Harry didn't even shiver. Loki frowned. When Harry's magic inefficiency had taken the form of coldness instead of heat, he should have known something was afoot. A few days ago, Harry had still been as sensitive to the cold as any other human. He doubted this new affinity for ice was natural. The only explanation could be that for some reason Loki's frost giant side was having more of an effect on Harry than his Asgardian.

There were no downsides showing so far, but he hoped that Harry wouldn't end up as a blue abomination. He would have to begin altering Harry's physiology to that of an Asgardian to ensure that it didn't happen. Hopefully, he would be capable of doing that. The strength, durability, and possible power boost would no doubt aid him as well.

"Come on, Harry," whispered the god. "You must find shelter; the mortal authorities will no doubt be seeking you."

Harry leaned against the wall, observing the people as they passed, wrapped up tightly in their winter coats. Since his first use of magic he rather preferred the cold for a reason Loki had decided not to disclose.

Noticing someone walking by close to him, he did as Loki instructed. An invisible tendril of magic came into existence, and with Loki's help, Harry was able to manipulate it just enough to reach it out a gently nudge a man's wallet out of his back pocket. It fell to the floor with a quiet thump, and no one seemed to notice.

Harry waited for a few moments before walking forward and calmly picking it up. His eyes widened as he stared upon its contents. Acting upon Loki's advice he had decided to target a man with more expensive looking clothing, and it seemed to have paid off. There had to be at least a few hundred pounds in here!

He pocketed the cash and dropped the wallet to the floor. Most would find it suspicious to see a child using a credit card anyway.

"Hey, kid!" a voice suddenly called from down the street, and Harry turned, his eyes widening. The man in the suit was running towards him, his face red. Harry turned and ran, zipping down the street with speed that a six-year-old shouldn't have possessed. With Loki enhancing Harry's speed, the overweight businessman had no chance and was quickly lost as Harry darted his way through London's back alleys.

 _'Good job,'_ praised Loki. ' _The man didn't notice the wallet leave his pocket, only that it wasn't there at a later date. He would have probably gone about his day if not for that.'_

 

 _'Thanks,'_ Harry mentally replied, gasping for breath. A few days was not long enough for Loki to transition him from human to Asgardian, and combined with the fact he was a child, he still didn't have anywhere near superhuman levels of strength, speed, durability or stamina. He was just far better than an average six-year-old, though neither Loki nor Harry saw this as a major achievement.

In a fight, he would have to reply purely on magic. His blast of pure magic was still his primary attack. Though it was inefficient, it could deal a large amount of damage, including rupturing internal organs if he was actually touching the person. He could, of course, also manipulate magic tentacle-like constructs like he had done when he had stolen the wallet, but that was hardly going to be useful in a fight.

As a result of his apparent aptitude for coldness, Loki had told him that he would teach him ice-based spells next. The god had told him that ice spells would be far less exhausting for him to use. Once again, he refused to reveal his reasoning for this, though Harry knew it was to do with his type of magic; Loki had told him that the magic within him was of mixed nature. Some of it was that of mortals, whilst some of it was that of the immortals.

Mortals apparently needed foci to channel and use their magic. Whilst Harry didn't  _require_ one, it would help him. Loki claimed to know the vague location of where one could purchase wands. It was a shop in a place called Diagon Alley, though wizards didn't generally learn to manipulate their magic correctly until they were eleven and were sent to magic school. Harry was an obvious exception to this rule, having a god in his head who changed his magic, but he didn't exactly want to explain that to a shopkeeper.

 

 _'When am I going to get a wand, Loki?'_ Harry mentally projected. At the moment, the god could only pick up on his thoughts when he was feeling a very strong emotion.

 

_'When you are capable of creating an illusion that will fool people into thinking you're an eleven-year-old. Have I not told you this before?'_

 

 _'No,'_ said Harry.  _'You just whined about me not being big enough to wield a spear and use it to blast magic at people.'_

 

For a moment, Loki was silent.  _'I recall that, though I did not whine. I merely criticized you.'_

 

Harry snorted.  _'Sure you did.'_

 

 _'If I did_ complain,  _I had a valid reason. An Asgardian focus would be able to channel both mortal and immortal magic, and you can stab people with a spear. Can you stab someone with a wand? I think not.'_

 

A frown came upon Harry's face.  _'Well, I suppose you could jam it up their nose or something…. Would that work?'_

 

Loki sighed.  _'If you're close enough to put your wand in someone's nose, there a variety of other techniques I can teach you.'_

_'You mean like karate or something?'_

 

 _'No!'_ groaned Loki.  _'Why would you ever need to perform mortal martial arts when I have trained with Asgard's finest warriors for millennia?!'_

 

_'Okay, then what would you recommend?'_

 

 _'I_ _,’_ Loki drawled, _‘would recommend that you use a spear.’_

Harry laughed. Whilst the god of mischief often came off as rude and prideful, he was quite funny–even when he didn't mean to be.

 

 _'Can you do Asgardian magic with a wand?'_ Harry asked.

 

 _'I don't know. Mortals cannot perform the magic of Asgard, and there has never been a need for an Asgardian to use a mortal wand,'_ Loki explained. He felt that he had improved quite a bit at patience over the time he had been teaching Harry, which was less than a week. He dared not say that he may have gained a bit of affection for the boy.

 

_'So are there Asgardian wands?'_

 

_'Yes, and they can also perform mortal magic, though it is hard for an Asgardian to channel, but unless you feel like going up to Asgard to obtain one, the only way to get them is to make one, which would also require travelling the Nine Realms._

 

 _'There are nine realms that you_ used  _to be able to travel from via the Bifrost before my idiot of a brother broke it,'_ explained Loki.  _'You have already heard of Asgard, and we are currently on Midgard. I will not tell you of the others now for they will be too dangerous for us to traverse at our levels of power, so there is no point.'_ He paused.  _'Come to think of it, you probably won't remember their names anyway.'_

Harry made a minor protest of indignation, but it was most likely true. For a moment, he contemplated what a weirdo he must have looked like, sitting in an alley with glazed over eyes and occasionally giggling. From what he had heard from Vernon and Petunia, that was what drug addicts looked like, though they were usually older than him by at least a few years.

When Harry thought of his aunt and uncle, the sadness and disgust he had felt few days ago was no longer there. This was partially down to Loki's manipulations of his mind, and partially from Harry's own logic. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had all been cruel to him because of his "freakishness." His life was far more important than theirs, for he had magic and they did not. Everyone's life was less important than his, because if he died, Loki did too, and that wasn't something he was ever going to let happen.

The god could have simply retreated to the depths of his mind or struggled to get out. He could have tried to take control of Harry, but he didn't. He could have left Harry to the wrath of the Dursleys, but he didn't. Loki was his best friend–his  _only_ friend–his mentor and, from what he understood, Loki's magic influencing him effectively made them father and son.

He wouldn't let Loki die, not for anything or anyone. He didn't need friends, when they would all eventually leave him. Loki was an immortal, and so was Harry so they would live forever. Harry just had to ensure that happened and first he would need to grow stronger, destroying any obstacle in his path. They did not matter, for his and Loki's survival was the most important thing in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

Overnight, Harry slept in a dilapidated house, as he had the nights before, this time curled upon a blanket he had bought with some of the stolen cash. No matter how much money he had, most hotels didn't let an unaccompanied minor sleep in them, and a place that did probably wouldn't be very safe anyway.

To be honest, he didn't mind. He liked the winter coldness and it was quite frankly more comfortable than he had ever been at the Dursleys; here, he could actually stretch his legs.

Hunger still flared in his stomach, but at least here he could just go and buy some food–and it didn't even have to be healthy! While the teachers at school had gone on about eating a balanced diet, Loki could just speed up his metabolism and do other things to keep him as fit as possible.

Harry looked both ways before exiting the house's broken window, making sure that there were no people around, especially police officers. He had not yet run into the authorities and he didn't plan to any time soon. Whilst Loki could easily teach him how to escape a muggle prison cell, it would knock back their plans quite a bit.

McDonalds was that morning's destination of choice for breakfast. It was one of the many things Harry hadn't been allowed during his time with the Dursleys, and when he had first tried it, he had been hooked, to say the least.

He walked up to the counter, a fake smile plastered on his face as he stared up at the cashier. Loki was quite the actor and was trying to impart some of his knowledge upon his host. Apparently, appearing happy made people less suspicious of you, for whatever reason. A testament to this was the noticeable decrease in "where are your parents?" questions Harry had received with his false grin.

Now, most people who talked to him were women commenting on how cute he was. It was annoying, but it was better than questions. Loki also said that he wouldn't mind it so much when he was older, but Harry didn't really understand why.

After obtaining his breakfast burger, Harry went to the park for another day of practising magic. It was less risky than going back to the house from before, and he quite preferred to sit by the iced-over pond he had found.

"Okay," Loki began, appearing before Harry as he sat down on the ground. "Do you remember how I taught you to project your mind outwards?" He waited for Harry to nod. "Well, now you must project it inwards and stare upon the magic which flows through. A large majority of mortal wizards are unable to do this and especially at such a young age, but seeing as I am in your body, I can guide you."

Loki's illusion vanished and then Harry heard the god's voice echo through his mind.  _'Are you ready?'_ he asked.

Harry nodded in affirmative.

_ 'Very well. First of all, close your eyes. Now imagine instead of just blackness, there is a ball of light floating in the middle of a void. It is bright, and a familiar power seems to emanate from it. Once you can see it, imagine veins running from it, pumping that energy through your body. Sustaining and strengthening it.' _

Harry felt a nudge at his mind, and then his imagination suddenly became reality. He had no body yet was floating in a void, somehow looking at the ball of energy in front of him from all sides at once. It was a truly majestic sight, a glowing mass of swirling blue, gold, and white that seemed to slowly rotate.

Loki hummed, breaking the serenity of the moment.  _'It is as I thought,'_ he murmured.  _'The white part is your mortal magic, and the golden part is your Asgardian magic.'_

_ 'And the blue?'  _ asked Harry. He sensed Loki grimace. 

_ 'That is the source of your coldness related powers. That is the magic of the Jotuns.' _

Harry frowned.  _'Jotuns?'_

_ 'Frost giants, my child. Just as my biological parents were, and I am.' _

For a moment, Harry was silent, and Loki felt as though he was a child once again, fearing the judgement of others. Would Harry hate him for potentially passing on this curse? That would be bad—getting things done with Harry was hard enough. It would be harder if he hated him.

_ 'You're not very big for a giant, you know.’ _

Loki chuckled in return.  _'Let us return to reality, child. We have seen what I needed to see.'_

The sensation rushing air suddenly surrounded Harry, and then he was cast back into reality, his head spinning. He let out a groan. Doing that again would best be left for a few years.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at Loki who gazed back in amusement. "Shall we get on with magic now, or is your headache too bad?"

With that, Harry was immediately ready, excitement written all over his face.

"Good," began Loki, his illusionary form vanishing then reappearing beside Harry rather than opposite him. "Now reach within yourself, and grasp your magic. Focus on the blue, its coldness, its wild nature. Push it outwards,"

Harry followed the instructions, and immediately he felt weaker yet more comfortable as his energy chilled the air around him to the point where frost instantly formed on the floor.

"Now draw it in,” spoke Loki, and Harry instinctively did so.

Freezing cold power was then running through his veins as the air warmed slightly again. Harry revelled in the heavenly sensation that momentarily drowned out Loki's voice.

"-ocus, Harry," was what he heard as he came around. "Channel that energy out through your hand, and imagine it forming a block of ice."

Harry gasped once again as the energy formed ice upon his palm, the rest falling back into him.

"Good job on your first piece of controlled magic, Harry," spoke Loki, sounding slightly proud. "We shall train on this for a while before moving onto illusions."

Finally gathering his breath, Harry asked, "Will some kinds of magic be easier for me than others?"

Loki gave a slight frown. "It is hard to explain, but probably not. As you saw, your magic is always moving, its power flowing from section to section. All your magic will come from all of the differently coloured parts." He paused. "Though I estimate that mortal magic will be slightly harder than the other two, seeing as with immortal magic your very body is powered by the energy, thus why immortals usually don't use foci for smaller tasks. Asgardian magic will be hard at a young age, but as you grow it shall become easier; it requires a lot of power to use.

“Midgardian magic, however, is not permanently within you. It flows through you from the magic in the air, largely uncontrollable without a focus.”

Harry couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. He might have had a long way to go, but he was actually learning magic!

There were two types of illusions, photokinetic and telepathic, with the former relying on manipulating light and vibrations to make something look and sound as though it was there, and the latter being controlling the target's to make them  _think_ that they saw something is there.

When operating upon a single victim, telepathy was generally the way to go unless you were up against a being with a fortified mind. Using telepathy on multiple targets, however, was generally not a good idea.

You would have to multi-task and control two or more minds simultaneously, all while ensuring that both were seeing exactly the same thing if you didn't wish for them to see through it. A minor mistake could cause you to be discovered.

With light, you couldn't go wrong unless you screwed up the illusion, although unlike with telepathy you couldn't simulate touching them or pain. Loki himself had managed to achieve a blend of the two, being the master of illusion he was. Light worked the best for appearance, and mixed with telepathy it could give a completely realistic representation to a crowd seeing as though it was not likely one would have to simulate to touch to multiple people at the same time.

Harry, being a beginner, had to use telepathic illusions since Loki's sheer mental force could help greatly when performing the potent Asgardian magic. He got the opportunity to test this as a teenager demanded his wallet a few weeks after he had first accessed his magical core. Loki could only laugh condescendingly as he stared upon the spotty teen through Harry's eyes.

"C-come on!" the teen said. He had already been nervous to begin with and this had only been worsened by Harry's apparent lack of fear.

_ 'Go on,'  _ urged Loki. ' _Humiliate him. How much of an idiot do you have to be to not bring a weapon when mugging someone?'_

With the full force of an Asgardian behind him, Harry projected his mind forward into the boy's. This was almost exactly the same thing as he had done to Dudley in the playground, but this time, a few things were added: sound and pain.The would-be mugger screamed as a mighty roar sounded beside him and a fully-grown lion seemingly burst from the wall beside him with a mighty roar. He didn't have time to register its slightly cartoonish features before it raked a massive claw across his face and pain overwhelmed him.

It was not the pain that an  _actual_ lion wound, merely what Harry had felt when he had accidentally cut his hand with a kitchen knife one time. He had merely moved it to his victim's face and multiplied it by three to simulate a lion.

Did lions have three claws? He wasn't really sure. The teenager didn't seem sure either, but he wasn't exactly thinking logically at that moment... It might have also had something to do with the massive amounts of illusionary blood Harry was creating from his face. He had accidentally let the illusion of the lion disperse, but that didn't really make a difference to the boy as he sprinted from the scene clutching at his face and screaming like a maniac.

What had he been thinking anyway? The average child didn't have amounts of money worth mugging–even if Harry did have a few hundred pounds in his pocket. Harry supposed that the boy had just been a bit of an idiot. Unfortunately, that meant he probably still needed a lot more training if his illusion on someone so dumb had still failed in some places.

That was a problem because he  _really_ wanted a wand and Loki wouldn't let him get one until he could form an illusion potent enough to fool a lot of people, so it would have to be a light illusion. He would also have to hold it for quite some time, which could prove difficult.

Loki estimated that it would take at least two years of magical training before he could do it, though Harry was determined to prove him wrong.

Harry frowned as the sound of drunken laughter reached his ears. With that he turned and began to jog back towards the abandoned house which would once again be his residence for the night; he didn't want to be out here when darkness fell.

What could have only been hours after he had fallen asleep, Harry awoke as something knocked against his mind.

_ 'Don't make a sound,'  _ murmured Loki.  _'Do not panic, but I can hear someone outside the building.'_

Harry let Loki's words echo through his mind for a moment before he forced himself to calm his breathing, staying as silent as possible. He too could hear something.

"I doubt the boy's still there anyway," said someone.

"Oh, come on. Afraid of a bit of a risk?" the other taunted. "A homeless kid will fetch a lot of money."

Harry let out a silent swear. Someone must have seen him enter. His hearing, though enhanced by Loki, couldn't quite pick out the rest as their voices quietened. Moving over to the window, Harry moved the planks covering it aside as quietly as he could. He had just heard them enter the front door, so he couldn't go out this way.

_ 'Loki?'  _ he asked tentatively.  _'Are you sure you've done this right.'_

Loki scoffed.  _'Of course I've done it right–just be sure to roll just in case.'_

Not allowing himself any time to hesitate as the stairs began to creak, Harry dropped from the window frame. For a very brief moment, wind rushed through his ears–and then he had hit the concrete feet-first, rolling in exactly the way Loki had taught him–and then he tripped over a rock.

He couldn't stop himself letting out a cry of pain as he cut his elbow on some broken glass.

_ 'Run!'  _ Loki urged, but it was already too late. Neither of them had noticed that one man had remained downstairs. Panic rose up inside Harry, but he ruthlessly batted it away as Loki barked out an order.

One moment the man was looming over him with a predatory grin upon his face, and the next a flash of coldness travelled through the air. The man froze as a blue power began to gather in Harry's palm, and he stayed that way, having no time to react as an icicle stabbed into his heart.

Allowing fatigue and emotion to have no effect upon him, Harry turned, all but the pupil of his eye flashing red as he fired another bolt of ice, striking the man who had just rounded the corner in his mid-section.

Breathing heavily, Harry stared with wide eyes down upon the two soon-to-be corpses. He had handled them with no problem. Perhaps he had underestimated himself. Emotion began to swell within him as he looked at the man he had just killed, but retreated as Loki appeared in front of him, blocking his view.

"Good job, Harry," he said proudly, pulling the boy into an illusionary hug with a smile. "Good job."


End file.
